


Unbirthday

by happygolovely



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Crack, Drinking Songs, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/pseuds/happygolovely
Summary: It's my birthday next week.” Ed blurts out. That's not what he wanted to say. His birthday isn't for months. His mouth always running away from him when he's around Oswald.“Happy Birthday, my friend! Let me take you somewhere nice my treat. I know the most exquisite Italian place on 31st, they have this cannoli -”Oswald. Candlelight. Cannoli cream at the corner of his mouth.He's in trouble.





	Unbirthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freckledandspectacled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/gifts).



Ever since Kristen's untimely departure, the GCPD treated him with an even wider bearth than usual. They don't want to deal with him in his current state. Without her he has no social bridge connecting him to the rest of the office. More isolated than ever.

It makes him giddy. Strings cut loose nothing to tie him down, he floats about for days. Head in the clouds, far above them all.

Occasionally he reminds himself that it is not proper to be so happy after his girlfriend’s death. He practices a frown in the mirror till it looked suitable depressed. That ought to do it.

It's not that he doesn't miss her. It's just that he's never felt so free.

He whistles a merry tune as he walks down the street and bumps into a stranger at a cross section.The man nearly trips over and Ed catches him in his arms just before he falls.

“Watch where you’re going you overgrown lamp post.” The man snarls. He pokes Ed in the chest with his cane. “You can take your hands off my waist now.”

Ed promptly drops him and he falls into the street. He scrambles to help him upright. “My apologies sir, I don't know what I was thinking.”

The man huffs and picks his cane off the ground. “You weren't thinking is what you were doing.” He flicks his forehead. “Try using that pretty little head from time to time.”

Ed blinks, tilts his head consideringly “You think I’m pretty?”

That’s a new one. Pretty. He rolls over the word in his mouth.

Ed likes the sound of that.

The man's mouth drops open and he stutters. “Well that's - I -you're very - it's just - I really should be going. Nice running into you.”

“We should do it again sometime.” Ed says, mouth entirely detached from the rest of his body. They are going to have a serious talk later, his mouth and him.

“That sounds hazardous.” Looks amused.

“Edward. Nygma.” He holds his hand out. “I’d like to know the man I nearly fell for.”

He laughs and Ed is stuck by the sound.

They shake hands and it resonates, a tectonic shift. Somewhere in Gotham, Jim Gordon gets a bad feeling in his stomach. Indigestion probably.

“Oswald Cobblepot. The pleasure is yours.”

“It certainly will be.” Ed smiles. “Care for a stroll? Unless you're busy of course.”

Oswald links their arms together as they walk down the street. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

* * *

 

They meet twice a week. Then three. Then four. Their days bleed over into coffee and cocktails.

Ed's tastes are eclectic, trying out different flavor compositions every time. He nearly gives the poor waiter a nervous breakdown on two separate occasions.

Oswald stuffs a hundred into the tip jar for their troubles. “You're intolerable, you know that?”

“Yet here you are, tolerating the heck out of me.” Ed sips his drink. “This is disgusting, what is this?”

Oswald steals his mug, regrets it instantly. “Chili peppers if I'm not mistaken.Your palate is bizarre.”

Ed sniffs haughtily. “My tastes are impeccable.” He takes Oswald's cup and drinks from it instead. He does this every week. “Entirely too sweet.”

“If you could just make up your mind we wouldn't even be having this discussion. Decide what you want. Get it.”

Ed looks at him over the brim of the cup. “Is it really that simple?”

Oswald wants to strangle him with his scarf. “If you don't make a decision fast, the shop will close and you'll be left with nothing. Someone else will be drinking your drink. Is that what you want?”

“No.” Ed looks more angry than the situation really warrants.

“Then do something about it already.”

Ed flags down the waiter, gestures at Oswald’s cup. “Two of the same. I'll have what he's having.”

The waiter leaves quickly, happy not to be there. They will be banned soon enough.

“Not too sweet, after all?”

“Developed a preference. Tastes change” Ed averts his gaze to the ceiling. “There's something I'd like to ask you. Something I've been meaning to tell you.”

Oswald leans across the table. “You can tell me anything, ask me anything, I can't promise I'll agree to it but I'd at least consider it.”

“It's my birthday next week.” Ed blurts out. That's not what he wanted to say. His birthday isn't for months. His mouth always running away from him when he's around Oswald.

“Happy Birthday, my friend! Let me take you somewhere nice my treat. I know the most exquisite Italian place on 31st, they have this cannoli -”

Oswald. Candlelight. Cannoli cream at the corner of his mouth.

“I have plans!!” Ed says loudly, disturbing the other customers. They are definitely getting banned. No great loss, their coffee is terrible.

Oswald’s face contorts, a false bright smile. The worst thing Ed has ever done. He wants to stuff his words back down his mouth to get that look off his face.

“Well that's, that's fine then. Have a lovely day, you and whoever you're spending it with.”

“I'd like to spend it with you actually. If you'd like to come. Just a small get together, nothing fancy. A few close friends.”

Ed has no other friends. Colleagues, Miss Kringle. Now Oswald. His social circle comprised of one.

Oswald beams. “I’d be delighted. What day, what time, the wine -”

“Friday. 7 pm. I'll pick up the wine. Just bring yourself, that's more than I could ask for.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Ed grimaces. “I can hardly wait.”

* * *

 

The invitations printed up on green paper, black trim. He hands them out at the station. Harvey. Jim. Lee. That's enough to constitute a small gathering factoring in himself and Oswald. It has the side benefit of minimizing his embarrassment should this whole thing go south.

It will not go south. He refuses to let it. He has the entire evening planned to the minute. Oswald will arrive at seven. He will bring a gift even though Ed told him not to. Oswald’s incessant propriety will not allow him to do otherwise. So thoughtful in his own way.

He plans to drown Oswald in champagne within an inch of his life. He will be so drunk he won't be able to remember any of it. Ed will take pictures and tease him about it for months.

The rest of them will arrive at 8:00. So astonished to discover he has a social life, they’ll be stupid and easy to maneuver. They will be out the door by 9:30, deeply uncomfortable with Ed’s entire existence and even more discomforted by the fact that someone actually enjoys it.

Kristen. He forgot to account for Kristen. They already know he's at least somewhat bearable in small doses. That will make it easier for them to believe he has a friend, won't it? Not that Oswald and Kristen are even remotely similar.

He wonders what they would have thought of each other. They both have a sweet tooth that's a start. Incredibly caustic sense of humor. Intelligent, driven, capable. Such tempers. It's best they never met.

He doesn’t know what this thing with Oswald is but he knows it's not the same. Not even close. Apples and grenades, oranges and cyanide.

Ed is dilly dallying over decorations - why can't he just string up a sign that says “birth” and be done with it - when there's a knock at the door.

Lee comes in holding her invitation. “Quick question: what’s going on here?”

He buries his head in paperwork, trying to look busy. Telepathically warning her to mind her own business. Unfortunately mind reading isn't among her many skills.

“It’s a party, Doctor Tompkins. I’m told they are fairly common.”

She looks somewhere between pity and disbelief.

“Ed your birthday is in October. It's on the GCPD social calendar. We forgot it last year and Kristen added it. What’s this really about?”

Ed curses under his breath.

“She was mistaken. It happens to the best of us, now if you will excuse me I should be getting back to wor-”

“If you don’t tell me what this is, I’m not coming. I won’t be your social experiment.”

Ed quickly runs the cost benefit analysis of lying to her once more. Lee is a shrewd woman, not easily deterred. Emotionally intuitive and likely to see through any charade he constructs. If she decides not to attend the likelihood of Jim and Harvey coming evaporates.

An ally. Someone to help him navigate the night, navigate Oswald. He still has no idea what he’s doing in that arena.

“I’ve met someone.” Her eyes widen. “A friend.” He says hastily more to himself than her. “He is...he has been a source of comfort these past months. Since Kristen left.”

Laying it on a bit thick there but the reference to Kristen pacifies her.

“You seem much better lately.” Lee agrees. “I’m glad you have someone but why the party?”

“I told him it was my birthday. I really don’t know why, I was going to tell him something else and I just -”

“Panicked. So now you need us to lie and abandon our moral principles all for some guy?”

“He’s not just any guy.“

Lee smiles knowingly. “No, he has to be something special I’m sure. This is the strangest thing you’ve asked for.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Doctor Tompkins. I am in your debt.”

“I’ll hold you to that. This better be the best unbirthday I’ve ever seen.”

“Not to worry, nothing too elaborate. Party games. Trivia. Pin the skull on the skeleton.”

Lee shakes her head. “Ed, its not actually your birthday.”

“Obviously.”

“No, what I mean is - you’re doing all this  for him, right? It should be something you both enjoy.“

Ed’s smile spreads wide across the room. Hits the windows and bounces off the ceiling.

“Leslie, you’re brilliant.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

* * *

 

The days arrives and Ed has everything in place, a delicately balanced ecosystem thriving. The apartment draped in purple and black. Silver banners.

Bed tucked into the wall for extra space and the more unsavory items concealed. There’s no need for an investigation into his less than legal interests.

The place is gleaming and so is Ed. Cleans up well when he puts thought into it. A well pressed black suit from a tailor Oswald once recommended. Hair combed back, a lavender tie.

He talks to the mirror and it doesnt talk back. All is well.

He is just about to pull hors d'oeuvres out of the oven when the doorbell rings. 6:40. That can’t be right. He opens the door still in oven mitts about to shoo away the intruder.

Oswald stands in the doorway. A vision in green. Ed has to steady himself against the door frame. In Oswald’s hands, a fine bottle of dessert wine, a black and green wrapped package and a pink box.

“I apologize for the intrusion, I thought I would swing by early and help you set up.” He peeks his head past Ed. “Not that you need it, clearly. Its marvelous, absolutely marvelous. Although -”

“What is it?” Ed asks nervously as he holds the door open ushering him in. He had accounted for everything. The food, the drinks, the decor. Precisely calibrated to appease and enjoy.

Oswald shrugs. “Just not what I expected. Thought there would be more green.”

Ed looks at Oswald’s black suit with emerald embroidery.

“You would have blended right into the walls.”

Oswald laughs and sets his items down on the counter. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“It's good, you look good. I am glad I didn’t go with the green.”

“Why’s that then?” He opens the cabinets, searching for the wine glasses. Ed moves over to him, stretches over his head and pulls out beakers. Oswald pressed between the counter and himself.

He hands him the beakers. “You were never meant to blend in. You always stand out.”

Oswald looks up at him. “Ed there’s something I’ve been- that is to say I -”

The smoke alarm goes off, the sprinklers come on.  The beakers fall to the floor. Oswald screeches and covers his hair.

Ed rushes to the oven, hors d'oeuvres thoroughly burnt. Disaster, complete and utter disaster. He pulls them out and they are instantly wet, smoke and water everywhere.

Oswald is moving his items into the cabinet, evidently given up on salvaging his outfit. They are completely drenched.

Ed leads him out of the kitchen and pulls open drawers. “I don’t imagine you’ll want to be wearing wet clothes when company arrives.”

Oswald pulls the wet fabric with his forefinger and thumb, nose scrunched in disgust. “You’re paying for the dry cleaning.”

Ed nods. Its fair. He ruined the entire evening, it's the least he can do.

He changes into a black turtleneck, black trousers and a tweed jacket with elbow patches. Checks his hair in the mirror, all the product gone.

Oswald emerges from the bathroom, Ed’s clothes comically oversized. A white button up shirt, a blue cardigan and a pair of pants slung low on his hips. No shoes, no socks.

Ed’s mouth goes dry.

The doorbell rings.  

This night just keeps getting better and better.

Lee looks stunning, Jim looks stunned and Harvey doesn’t want to be here.

Harvey looks past Ed and sees Oswald tugging at the white shirt, which has slipped revealing his shoulder.

“Started the party without us, huh?”

He chucks a bottle of scotch into Ed’s hands. He fumbles barely managing to catch it.

Harvey tips his hat. “It’s been weird, Ed. See you around.” He starts to leave and Jim pulls him back.

“If I have to sit through this thing, so do you.”  

Harvey sighs. Ed hands him back the scotch. Harvey uncorks it and takes a swig. “What the hell, I didn’t need eyes anyway.”  

They come in and take off their coats. Jim nods awkwardly to Ed, looking somewhere above his eye level.

“I didn’t know you two were….on friendly terms.”  

Oswald moves in front of Ed defensively. “And what of it?”  

Jim holds his hands up. “Nothing! Nothing! I think it's great! Two of my friends being friends! It’s all very friendsome. Friendly.”

Oswald pours Lee some of his wine. They are going to need it.

* * *

 

Alcohol. It's a beautiful thing. They all get completely plastered. Harvey and Oswald both started before they got here. Oswald has a much higher tolerance than Ed was expecting, both for the alcohol and Ed’s colleagues.

Oswald takes out party hats and forces them all to wear them. Harvey refuses to take off his other hat and wears a hat on top of his hat. He and Oswald play drinking games, Oswald wipes the floor with him. Harvey declares him an honorary Irishman. They swap stories of the best bars in the city they’ve been kicked out of.

They’re planning a pub crawl. Ed shakes his head in bewilderment.

Oswald gets on fine with Jim when they’re not posturing which is at least eighty percent of the time. They remember they’re supposed to be friends somewhere after the fourth drink and sing terrible drinking songs. Harvey joins in at the chorus. None of them can carry a tune in a bucket full of buckets.

Lee smiles and nudges Ed with her elbow. “It's going well.” She somehow manages to remain perfectly pristine, sitting on the floor with her shoes kicked off.

Oswald grabs Lee and pulls her away from the rest of them, citing help in the kitchen.

“They’re talking about us, aren’t they?” Jim says into his beer.

“Nah, just you two.” Harvey gestures at Jim and Ed. “Deciding who wins boyfriend bingo.”

Ed sputters into his drink. “I - that’s not- how could you insinuate-”

Jim claps him on the back. “It’s alright, Ed. He’ll come around eventually. You’re a catch.” He doesn’t sound like he believes a word of it but its nice that he’s trying.

“Didn’t even know that was your type. Last I checked your MO was feisty redheads.” Harvey squints. “He is fiesty though I’ll give him that.”

Ed slams his drink on the table. “Once again detectives you have shown yourselves to be completely and utterly incompetent. The nature of my relationship with Oswald is beyond your comprehension and so you reduce it to simple terms you can understand. Let me put it to you plainly: we are not together. We are not anything. So why don’t you take your unfounded accusations and shove e-”

“And a very merry birthday to you.” Ed turns around. Oswald standing behind him, a plate full of cannolis with candles sticking out of them. His party hat tilted to the side nearly falling off his head.

He hands the plate to Harvey and rips the hat off his head.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening everyone. If you must excuse me, I’m wanted elsewhere where I’m actually wanted.”  

He marches into the kitchen and yanks open a cabinet door, takes the present out and tosses it vaguely in Ed’s direction.

“It’s a mixology text. I figured you might want to make your own drinks. You’re so particular.” Oswald lets out a strangled sound. “So finicky. You’ll never know what else is out there if you limit yourself like that.”

He rushes to the door, Ed following after him tripping over his own feet. “Tastes can change. I can...I can change.”

Oswald looks at him sadly. “No, you really can’t.” He slams the door, Ed’s nose pressed up against the wood. He collapses against it.

Lee pulls him around and punches him in the arm. “You’re an idiot.”  

“I’m well aware.” He says mournfully.

Harvey and Jim pick him up off the ground. Jim punches him in the other arm not quite as hard as Lee. Harvey glares at him.

“What are you waiting around for, a warrant? Go get your guy.”

He looks up hopefully. “You think he’d still have me?”  

They roll their eyes collectively and shove him out the door.

He races down the corridor, the steps and outside the apartment.

Finds him in the middle of a crosswalk, arms wrapped tightly around himself clutching the cardigan. It's cold, far too cold. He doesn’t have any shoes or socks on, feet against the concrete. Sacrifice comfort for a cold exit. As if there was ever anything cold between them.

Ed pulls on his arm and he stumbles, rightens himself with his cane.

“Get your hands off me.” Ed holds him more firmly, tries to lead him out of the street. Oswald plants himself at the center of traffic, horns blaring. Unstoppable force, immovable object.

“How much more of this can you take?” Ed yells. “I don’t think I can stand it, can you?”

“I can’t stand YOU. You and your riddles and your smiles and your stupid,stupid -” 

Ed kisses him. Oswald pulls back quickly. “And your arrogance and your stubbornness and the way you kiss me when I am MAD AT YOU LIKE THAT MAKES EVERYTHING BETTER!”

Ed is nonplussed by the yelling more preoccupied by the fact that Oswald is kissing him. Pulls him down by the lapels of his jacket and walks him across the street. Pushes him against a lamppost and kisses him senseless, kisses him silly.

“I am still angry with you.” Oswald says sometime later on Ed’s couch, cardigan on the floor along with his inhibitions. Ed hums in acknowledgment. That white button down shirt falling off his shoulders. He pushes the fabric even further to the side, so he can kiss his neck.

“Be angry with me, be furious. Be miserable, be ecstatic. I want all of it, all of you. Don’t hold back.”  

Oswald doesn’t.

Party streamers across the floor, cannoli cream in his mouth.

Best not-birthday ever.

**Author's Note:**

> merriest of birthdays to the best of freckles  
> tumblr: happygoloony


End file.
